Shadowed Violet
by SpiritDancer1
Summary: Malik is a slave to a sadistic vampire master. After killing his master he escapes to humanheld lands, but cannot stand to live without his love Ryou. He risks all by returning to vampire lands to save Ryou from his master Bakura. MM AU BR MM YY
1. Chapter 1

Shadowed Violet: Chapter 1 

A/N: **NO** OCs in this one folks, it's Yu-Gi-Oh characters only!

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!

The vampires were staring at him again, but then they'd been staring at him for most of the night. Malik ignored them and pulled his knees tighter to his chest, inadvertently shifting the gold-chased doe-skin collar circling his neck. He hated being collared, but as a vampire's slave Malik had little choice--at least this collar didn't have tiny metal hooks that tore at his skin with every movement. His previous owner made him continuously wear one like that, scattering permanent, deep scars over his neck-flesh. The last vampire who owned him, a man he knew only as 'Master' enjoyed his blood best when spiced with pain, just as he'd enjoyed the blood of his other slave, Ryou, while the boy screamed in pleasure. Unfortunately, that other slave was the whole reason he was a vampire captive again.

_Gods, what an idiot I am, thinking Ryou loved me, cared for me. . . . _In the bare concrete room Master kept them in they only had each other to soothe the mental and physical wounds Master delighted in giving them. At least until Malik caught Master unawares and killed him, nearly dying of the injuries inflicted previous to the battle and during it. In agony, Malik dragged himself several miles across the border into lands still held by his own kind. Lucky for him Master's home was that close to human lands or surely he would've been caught, especially since the best he could manage at the time was a stumbling walk punctuated by frequent rests.

Eventually, he healed somewhat and came back to rescue Ryou, who had previously been taken from Master by a vampire named Bakura as his hikari. Malik's hands spasmed into white-knuckled fists as the raw, painful memories of the night he stole into Bakura's mansion played in his mind's eye. . . .

" Malik, I don't want to hurt you, but I love Bakura now." Ryou whispered, drawing the onyx colored sheets of Bakura's bed around his nude body, a testament to the validity of his words. The bronze skinned teen stumbled back into the far wall, one hand clutching his chest as though his heart pained him. It did, but not physically. Malik's mouth sagged open, twilight purple eyes incredulous and tortured. _It can't be. . . .he said he loved ME. . . .how can he love one of THEM?_ Thoughts whirred inside his head like panicked bats in a sealed cave.

"I love you, I always will, but I'm not in love with you. Oh Malik, I can't tell you how sorry I am. . . ." Malik couldn't utter a sound, so angry, so shocked, so incredulous he simply didn't have the ability to form coherent speech. His mind, however, was anything but silent. _Sorry? SORRY! After I risk my safety by returning to vampire territory you're only SORRY? _ He mentally shrieked. _My battle wounds are only partially healed; I exhausted myself coming here to take you to freedom in the human lands and you have the GALL to tell me you love a fucking vampire! _ A faint whisper of sound and a stiffening of Ryou's body was all the warning Malik got before a hard body slammed his into the plush burgundy carpet. Knowing hands well-practiced in the arts of restraint pinned Malik before he'd regained the breath driven from him. _Bakura!_ The boy's mind screamed, indentifying him by the flood of white locks brushing his cheek. A despairing cry erupted from the blond, shocked from him when the vampire's fangs plunged into his tender neck.

Shadowed-violet eyes threw a desperate, pained look at the bed, Ryou sadly met his gaze with apologies in his eyes and gave a tiny headshake—no help for Malik there. The Egyptian cursed both white-haired males roundly, writhing like a crazed ferret beneath the dead weight of the vampire, not moving him a fingerwidth; the larger man barely noticed, continuing the drain the boy until his struggles slowed and gradually ceased. Weakened to the point of unconsciousness, Malik couldn't even get to his knees when the vampire rose and stalked from the room muttering about handcuffs and killing some inept guards. The last thing Malik saw was teary doe-brown eyes framed by silky white bangs pleading for understanding, for acceptance, for forgiveness. Then everything went black.

_Why didn't I leave him to his fate? Hikari's are ALWAYS well treated, like cherished pets rather than slaves. Which makes sense, the stupid vamps think just cause the hikaris resemble them it means they're the lighter half of their soul. Nooooooo, I just HAD to rescue him, sure he wanted freedom as much as I did. Talk about stupid. . . ._ Malik berated himself silently.

He awoke caged and collared here, Elegante Training Center, a complex where high-grade food slaves were trained and sold. All that occurred over 2 months ago, since then he'd frustrated every single trainer here in his refusal to roll over and become a good food human like the others. If Malik didn't have the rarest and most delicious blood type, they might have shipped him off to do grunt work somewhere remote and inhospitable. Hell, without his rare bloodtype he'd be dead, executed for slaughtering his master.

AB Negatives like himself barely made up 0.5 of the human race BEFORE the Shadow Wars devastated the human population; now they were so rare the vamps made killing one punishable by execution. Which explained why he attracted a healthy crowd even with the bright orange tag of an intractable, untrained slave hanging prominently on his cage-door beside the black-striped red tag announcing his much-desired bloodtype, and the all-gold tag of a foodslave.

The tags made it easy for a vampire to pick out the basic characteristics desired in his/her new slave at a distance so the prospective Master needed only take a closer look at what s/he really wanted. A constant stream of wealthy vampires passed by his cage, most stopping to read the thick sheaf of papers clipped to the door. After perusing them most gave him an appraising stare, which generally melted into shock when they caught a look at his appearance. In a word he looked like Hell, figure gaunt and half-starved, face palid under his bronze complexion, and hair rough and limp.

One might think after two months at the training center Malik would have looked better--the scary thing was is he DID look quite a bit better. His injuries were only partially healed when Malik went after Ryou, so were only partially healed when he came to the Training Center. Needless to say the trainers had been mortified at his appearance, as had the other slaves; which in turn surprised Malik, who expected harsh treatment at best from a vampire, out-and-out torture at worst. Apparently not all vampires were like his previous Master.

From overheard conversations between the experienced slaves Malik got the impression gourmet food slaves like himself were generally well-treated—if not pampered. A vamp could feed on a human of any blood type, but those with heavy purses were like any rich folk, they wanted gourmet food rather than common fair. Not all humans, even those within the same bloodtype, tasted the same. Diet was a factor in blood-taste easily regulated, as was general physical fitness, but the minor variations in cell-structure that made one human taste much better than another were purely genetic.

Only one blood type guaranteed exceptional taste—his, AB negative. One of the Training Center slaves said her previous master likened the taste of common slaves to water and hers to fine wine. The water was okay, it got the job done, but didn't have the punch and flavor of the wine. _Then she said MY blood was like the finest of wine, from the best vintage and at the peak of perfect flavor._ Recalled Malik, leaning a cheek on his drawn-up knees, his platinum locks sliding over bare shoulders.

The boy hated being without a shirt, shameful of the scars covering his back, but the Trainers wanted to show off his leanly muscled upper body. Master considered his skin a canvas on which to create his artwork of pain; unfortunately he was a rather prolific artist, carving in great detail some kind of prophecy on the teen's back using tatoo ink and heated knife-blade.

Malik felt incredibly vulnerable in only black shorts and red-jeweled collar. Especially since ONLY an AB negative got to wear crimson and ONLY an AB negative like him would be displayed on a short dais in the center of the Viewing Room. His cage matched the other slaves'--heavy glass with black iron frame to allow maximum viewing potential, the flooring covered entirely by a mat apolstered in easily-cleaned black vinyl. All the cages were large enough for their occupants to stand fully or stretch out on the floor in any direction.

Certainly comfortable enough for a slave to sleep in if they wanted—as some of the child slaves worn out from the long day were doing. Vampires in general were not a loud people, most used to melting into the shadows rather than attracting attention, so even a room full of them rarely generated more than a dull buzz. Particularly an aristocratic bunch like this, the crustiest of the upper crust of vampire society.

"Malik?" A soft, achingly familiar voice floated from the barred cage door. A voice he simulataneously loved and despised, one that had often brought him back from the precipice between sanity and insanity. One he'd heard everyday of his life for four years and gleaned much comfort from. Now all it did was remind him of his stupidity. Malik refused to acknowledge Ryou's gentle querie, still angry and hurt. Not that he'd speak to anyone else either—except to scream obsenities at the Trainers occasionally.

"It's a lost cause hikari, he won't respond to you." Grunted the husky voice of Bakura, just hearing it ratcheted his anger-level up several notches. "The Trainers have tried to make him into something marginally tractable for two months and haven't gotten anywhere. They've finally given up—which is why he's being sold today."

"But yami, Malik was just trying to help me. . . . Do you HAVE to sell him?" Ryou protested softly. "I can't—and won't—keep a slave that bent on escape, but I get final say to who he goes to. Humph, everyone rich enough to purchase him will probably spoil him rotten." Bakura chuckled, a smirk plain in his voice. "C'mon Ryou, let's go—they're gonna start his private showing in a few minutes." The boy objected, but he went. Malik stared after him, a fleeting expression of longing sweeping his features.

His sweet voice, his gentle, soothing touch, the only person for as long as he could remember who cared for him. Or so he believed. _No one has cared about me my entire life—not even my own father-- why the fuck should I think anyone would now?_ Malik asked himself retorically, bitterly cruel. _Well, I'm guaranteed no one will care about anything other than the taste of my blood NOW. All I'll be to these vamps is a tasty snack, never a person._ Malik swallowed hard at the tear-lump forming in his throat, he thought the ability to cry lost to him. He didn't want to hurt anymore, didn't want to feel the raw wound within his soul bleed, so he ruthlessly buried his hurt behind a fiery wall of anger.

This time when he stared after the white-haired tenshi, disgust curled his lip. _Slut._ Malik thought, noticing how Ryou practically fawned all over Bakura. A quick glance around showed much the same with the other trained food slaves; the caged slaves were no better, most pressed against the barred doors of their cages like eager puppies in a petshop window. The fresh-caught human slaves were easy to spot, they'd only been given rudimentary training so had little experience with vampires; as such most were huddled in the corners or their cage's back walls, nervous, frightened.

Leaning his cheek on the cool glass wall, Malik idly watched a fresh caught—a 16 or 17 year girl, Malik's age—cringe as a trainer unlocked her cage to admit a darkly handsome vampire man.. The vampire embraced the trembling girl, merely holding her for several minutes, probably talking soothingly to her. After the girl relaxed somewhat, he gently bite her neck, likely pumping her full of his venom; a chemical in all vamps saliva that worked something like a opiate/sedative/muscle relaxant combo.

A gentle introduction to slavery Malik never got to experience, and in a way he was oddly grateful. Master's cruelty keep his eyes open and his mind clear to cold reality, a slave was still a slave no matter the trappings or the master. He'd never forget what freedom felt like, to make his own choices, to even HAVE choices. . . . The boy was jerked from his thoughts as his cage was jolted by a pair of grunt work slaves owned by the Center.

Stoney-faced and silent, they pushed the wheeled cell into one of the private auction suites reserved for only the most premier of goods. _Oh I feel SO damned SPECIAL._ Heavy sarcasm practically dripped from the thought. Malik silently watched the violet-eyed blond trainer called Mai open the door with a resounding clang. "C'mon handsome, let's get you out of this glass cube." She said genially, smiling wide enough to show fang as she clapped a pair of silk-lined gold handcuffs on his wrists.

Sighing, the teen rose and stiffly followed the trainer-vamp outside to another dais; this one draped in black satin and nearly overflowing with satin-covered pillows in varying shades of deep blue and purple. Mai sat him on the wide cushioned top, clipping a thin but strong chain attached to an iron ring embedded in the marble wall to his collar. The trainers here were some of the best, Mai an old hand at dealing with stubborn humans—she made sure the chain was long enough so the boy could lay down, but short enough he couldn't stand erect or touch the dais's edge.

_Lovely, I get to be displayed like a prized dish on a satiny platter. What's next, are they going to heap piles of parsley around me as a garnish? _Malik growled inwardly, eyes flicking around the room. Like the Main Viewing Room, this Auction Suite consisted of polished black marble walls and flooring, the only furniture a dozen overstuffed chairs for the buyers' comfort. Malik didn't sit idly long before the room filled with chattering vampires, all eagerly lining up at the foot of his dais.

_Why are they doing that? Didn't they get a close enough look in the Viewing Room? _Thought Malik suspiciously, frowning at the eager expressions on the buyer's faces.

So intent on the jostling vamps in front of him he failed to notice Bakura ghosting up behind him. Silver-clothed arms snapped around him from behind, crushing him to a steely chest. Hot breath smelling of rotting copper and spearmint mouthwash washed his tender neck, his only warning before the white-haired vamp plunged fangs into bronze flesh. Twin points of jagged pain arced from his neck to jaw-hinge.

The pain worked like the trigger to an explosion of writhing, desperate movements exponentially intensified by a fist of panic that crushed Malik's heart and lungs, squeezing the breath from his body in panting gasps. Malik clawed at Bakura's arms with his bound hands, suddenly clumsy fingers having a difficult time finding purchase on the raw silk of the vampire's shirt. A brief flower of warmth bloomed under the skin around Bakura's embedded fangs, signalling he pumped a generous dose of venom into the human's bloodstream.

The teen shivered as his body relaxed involuntarily under the venom's power, a too-familiar paralysis flooding him. Master paralyzed Malik every time he used the boy, loving the instinctual panic that always lit the violet eyes. Unwanted and unbidden memories overwhelmed the platinum blond's mind in violent flashes: Master leaning over him with a knife black-edged from heating, Master delicately licking his blood from a whip's lash, Master grinning as he sunk fang into delicate skin of his inner thighs. . . .Bakura's husky voice pulled him from the terrifying mire of his worst memories, thrusting him back into a reality only marginally better.

"I almost forgot how good you taste—pity I can't trust you not to corrupt my hikari." Purred the vampire into his ear. Malik squirmed weakly in the man's hold, desperate to get away from him. To Malik, physical contact meant pain and suffering, blood, tears, and a deep lingering shame that he wasn't strong enough to defend himself. Bakura chuckled at the foolish human's antics, gently laying him down on the cushioned dais.

"What's so funny?" A new voice cut over the other vampires' muted chatter. "Huh, didn't think you'd show." Commented the white-haired vampire, rising to meet the visitor. Darkness licked at the edges of Malik's vision, a haze of blurriness making it impossible to see anything but a mostly black blob approaching the mostly silver blob that was Bakura. The multi-colored blobs of the other buyers drew back to let the black blob through, a tense silence falling over the crowd. A vampire of high rank to be sure to cause such an instant response.

"Whyever not? You did say you had something interesting to show me didn't you?" Replied the newcomer, amused. While the two chatted a gentle drowsiness wrapped Malik's senses, making the world seem remote and unimportant, the sedative/opiate part of Bakura's venom finally kicking in. "True, well here he is."

Malik's eyes were closed, but he felt the air displacement when Bakura moved and the push of cool air smelling of spicey cologne preceeded the sense of the newcomer leaning over him. "Interesting, quite tasty-looking isn't he? I see you've venomed him up to let his prospective buyers sample him." The other observed tartly. Malik fought the warm, seductive sleepiness pulling at his mind, knowing he needed to hear more of this conversation.

"Yeah, well, I SAID I didn't think you'd show. I also told you I'm selling the little bastard today come wooden stakes or broken fangs. So, you want him?" Queried the white-haired vamp bluntly. A very long pause spiced with Bakura's growing irritation and impatience ensued before the other drawled: "Yeah, sure, I'll take him. I could use a new snack/bed toy combo." With those nonchalant but chilling words echoing in his ears Malik lost his wavering grip on consciousness and the world faded away.

HELP! I'm looking for a Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfic I read about a year ago and can't remember it's name or author! I can't recall the summary, but the story had Ryou, Bakura, Malik, and Marik. Basically the yamis abused their hikari's so much they went crazy and somehow ended up on the street (I don't remember how exactly and it may just have been Ryou that ended up on the street). Bakura and Marik start needing their lights to balance their darkness and ended up taking in the other yami's hikari. In other words Bakura and Malik end up together, as do Ryou and Marik. Eventually, the hikari's regain their sanity and come to love their yami caretakers. In particular I remember at the end of the story Ryou and Malik talking together, and one asks the other if they should switch back (I don't remember who asks what). The other replies that it wouldn't be a good idea. Any help at all would be much appreciated, I've tried searching for it and am unable to find it. If this description even vaguely matches a fic you're familiar with please give me it's title. My e-mail address is: or you can just leave it in a review if you prefer. Thanks!

A/N: I know Malik's blood type isn't officially AB-, I think it's like O+ or something, but that wouldn't work in the story. It's actually true that only 0.5 of the population has AB- bloodtype.


	2. Chapter 2

Shadowed Violet: Chapter 2 

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!

A/N: Thank you SO much to everyone who's reviewed this fic so far! I can't tell you how very much I appreciate it and it really inspired me to get this chapter out much sooner than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it!

WARNINGS: I can't believe I forgot to put the warnings in the first chapter, but then again that chapter was relatively tame. Anyway, in case you haven't guessed from reading Chapter 1, this will be a yaoi fic with plenty of BDSM elements running around. Also, there will be mention of rape (nothing graphic. . . .yet). My plots tend to evolve, often going in completely different directions than I originally planned, so I'll leave the warnings general right now, but I will certainly put specific warnings in chapters that need them.

Malik hated this dream, he always sensed it coming, stealthily creeping into his consciousness on nightmare claws that gripped his sleeping mind with tenacious glee. Unfortunately, no matter how desperately he tried he could never seem to wake up until it played out to the horrid, bitter end.

"Father don't—please!" The high, still child-like voice of a twelve-year-old Malik begged, pulling with all his meager strength at his father's bruising grip on his slender wrists. The man didn't even spare the boy a passing glance, continuing to drag his struggling offspring through the glittering whiteness of fresh snow illuminated by moonlight. It was bitterly cold tonight, too cold to snow again, the temperatures having plunged well below zero after today's earlier snowfall. Much too cold for his worn coat and patched sneakers to keep him warm, not that his father cared of course. Mr. Ishtar hadn't cared for his son from day one, not after his beloved wife died from giving birth to him. He'd only kept the boy this long because it was illegal to give your child as an Offering until twelve, which Malik had turned last month. Fear closed the boy's throat--they were only a few yards from their destination--a plain black van parked ominously at the end of their walkway. "Father, I'll be g-good, I'll d-do anything you want just p-please don't give me to THEM." He pleaded, voice breathy with panic. The older Ishtar whirled and slapped the boy across the face with the resounding smack of flesh hitting flesh. Hot pain exploded over Malik's face, the impact of his father's hand sending him crashing to the icy ground. Dazed from the blow, Malik didn't fight when the older blonde hauled him by his coat-collar the rest of the way, ending their journey by tossing the boy at the feet of another man. "Here, take this useless filth off my hands." Mr. Ishtar spat, words colder than the night air and as sharply painful as a dagger plunged into Malik's heart. The blond knew his father didn't love him, he'd come to terms with that years ago, but he never imagined his father hated him THIS much. Malik struggled to his knees, his ragged jeans instantly becoming soaked and dirty in the roundside muck. "Gladly, sure you don't want to auction him though? Pretty Sweetbloods like him fetch high prices." Malik looked up to see a stoney-faced, middle-aged man dressed in a thick black jacket, heavy jean coveralls, and chunky boots. Malik's eyes grew wide, a beam of silvery moonlight had picked out a patch on the stranger's coveralls identifying him as a government Slave Transporter. The elder Ishtar waved him off impatiently. "No, I don't want him spoiled rotten in a noble's household, let him suffer under our local vampire Lord." Stunned speechless, Malik sat frozen in a shock colder than the iciest winter night. Everyone knew the vampire Lord whose territory was closest to their town was crazier than normal for a bloodsucker. Local gossip said his tastes ran to the sadistic when devising punishments for his servants at best, lethal if they displeased the Lord too much. Broad shoulders twitched in a brief shrug. "Suit yourself." The low coarse voice rumbled as the strange man handed Malik's father a clipboard. "Sign at the bottom and initial the top of the second page." He ordered, accepting the signed paperwork back and separating out a few sheets for Mr. Ishtar. "The yellow copies are yours, make sure to keep those for proof or the town won't get credit for the Offering."

"Of course." The elder Ishtar grinned sadistically at the shivering boy staring up at him with beseeching violet eyes. "Have fun being a vampire's whore, boy." Beefy hands much larger than his father's jerked him erect before he was able to fully get his berings. Malik gasped as metal burning from exposure to the freezing night were clamped painfully tight around his abused wrists. Any other vocalizations were rendered impossible by a foul-tasting rubber ball gag shoved unceremoniously into his mouth and buckled in place by heavy leather straps.

Five minutes later found Malik lying in a metal cage welded to the van's interior, hot tears of mingled hurt and terror slipping down his cheeks. Curling into a ball to hold in as much body heat as possible, Malik stared at the rough iron bars around him. I better get used to cages, I'll be spending a lot of time in them from now on. Father how could you do this to me! He wailed mentally. Malik was now an Offering, a human freely given up by their community (whether the human agreed or not) to help meet their yearly Slave Tithe quota. In a way the system resembled paying taxes, but instead of paying in money you paid in living beings and you paid it to the local vampire Lord rather than a government. Criminals, the homeless, the mentally challenged, and orphans twelve or older were given first in Slave Tithe, but inevitably they needed ordinary, law abiding citizens to fully meet Tithe. Some vampire Lords waived the difference if they were only short a few people--not theirs, if anything he demanded more than normal. Slaves in the Lord's household rarely lived long, the typical life expectancy five years at most and that was for a competant, useful Slave. Malik, not knowing the AB negative law, felt sure he'd last only a year at best. Hurting both physically and mentally, the blond continued to sob bitter tears empty of consolation.

Malik whimpered in his sleep, a frown between his eyes the only indication of his fierce struggle to return to the waking world. As much as he loathed seeing his father's betrayal again, he hated the next part of the dream nearly as much.

The young teen didn't know how long the bumping, rattling drive in the unheated van lasted, but by the time it screeched to a shuddering halt Malik's body was cold-stiffened , his muscles screaming from the rough ride. His struck cheek throbbed harshly even with the winter air to cool it, his gag-stretched jaw ached abomidably, and daggers of pain lanced up his bound arms to add to his miseries. The Handler yanked the doors open, flooding the completely dark interior with moonlight and making the boy squint at the brightness. Quickly unlocking the cage the Handler pulled Malik upright, ignoring the muffled cry of pain as cramped muscles were forced to move.

Intense surprise filtered through the dread curling inside Malik when he stumbled into a field of unbroken snow ringed by various confers. _What the--?_ He expected a grand manor house with tasteful landscaping, not untouched wilderness. "Wondering why you're here boy?" At Malik's nod he continued, buckling a heavy flourescent orange collar around the young one's slender neck while he talked. "This is the Lord's private hunting preserve. He fancies chasing his meal down tonight rather than it bringing itself to him. This—" He flicked the chunky collar with a thick finger. "will make certain you stay in the game until you're caught or morning comes—whichever happens first. It'll deliver a crippling electric shock if you get too close to the poles marking the preserve's border, the closer you get the higher the voltage." He pointed to a line of simple metal poles 10 yards distant. Malik yelped as a hard hand shoved him at the poles then screamed behind the gag, eletricity jolting through his body. The Handler jerked him back, smirking in response to Malik's glare. "Thought I'd give a taste so you wouldn't do anything stupid. Now, you DO have a fighting chance if you're smart. The Lord wants this to be challenging for him, or he'd not have any fun at it. The eastern border doesn't have the poles, it has simple wooden posts so you can get back to human lands there. Or, if you stay free until dawn the light will trigger a sensor in the collar to make it unlock." The man tossed the handcuff's key in the snow at Malik's feet, causing the boy to scramble for it, digging frantically in the powdery snow with bare hands. Concentrating on the task at hand Malik barely heard the van door slam or it's engine chugging to life. Finding a tiny silver key in deep snow at night with bound hands numb from cold was near impossible. Malik managed it though, tossing both cuffs and gag in one of the van's tire ruts once he'd freed himself. Orienting himself by the full moon, he started running, mind blank of anything but moving as fast as possible.

The older Malik twisted in his bedding, shivering under the blankets from a cold wind only in his mind. Bare feet twitching as if in time to a running beat. The dream would

end now, his subconscious not cruel enough to force him relive his capture. Malik realized now he never had a chance; the vampire had been on his trail from the beginning, hanging back to give his prey a sense of hope. Oh how Master loved to shatter hope, he gloried in seeing bleak despair fill his slaves' eyes. Malik's sleeping form jerked as he mentally shied from those memories and willed himself awake.

Malik's eyes popped open, heart beating against his breastbone like a trapped fly against a closed window. He breathed deeply, forcing himself to shake off the last vistages of the dream and calm down. Slowly, he pushed off the soft blanket covering him and sat up, shaking his head as dizziness surged through him. _Wha?_ His confusion was understandable, vampire venom never had side effects and it cleared out of a human's system relatively quickly. All speculation vanished once the teen got a good look at his surroundings, mouth sagging open in awe. "Oh shit. . . ." Malik breathed. Sunlight from a wall of giant windows poured into a huge, plushly appointed bedroom decorated in a vaguely Egyptian style. The predominate color scheme was gold, black, and twighlight colors, frescoes of Egyptian hieroglyphs covered the walls, and the dominate feature of the room was the giant bed Malik sat next to. Everywhere he looked were priceless artifacts and semi-precious jems in real gold. _Ra, could this be the Palace? Am I in Domino City, the vampire capitol? _Wondered Malik. For all he knew Elegante Training Center was in Domino City. It's not like the vampires ever told him where Bakura dumped him, and his contact with other slaves had been quite minimal.

_That has to be custom built._ The boy decided, staring at the expanse of black silk-covered bedding that could hold a half-dozen people comfortably. _So does this._Malik thought with distaste as he looked at his own bed, a strange ovular affair covered in deep amethyst satin that looked exactly like a. . . _.Pet bed. Apparently no one told my new master the difference between actual pets and human slaves._ Malik hooked a thumb under his slave collar and pulled it into view, rolling his eyes at seeing a black, gold studded collar that'd have looked at home on any cat's neck. It even had a marble-sized gold bell that chimmed softly with his every movement. At least the Royal Seal of an upside-down pyramid with a stylized eye in the center stamped on the identification tag confirmed he really was in the Palace. "Why me? Why the Hell do I always get the psychos? What's worse is he's a high-ranking psycho." He moaned, dropping his face into his hands. The action made something tug oddly in his hair. A frown puckering his bronze forehead, Malik patted the offending area, eyes widening at finding two furry, triangular-shaped objects that appeared somehow knotted in his hair. Knotted good too—a couple fierce tugs only snapped a couple platinum blonde hairs. Spotting a handmirror on a nearby nightstand, Malik grabbed it and stared at his image. _Ears?_ The things in his hair were two fairly lifelike kitty-ears dyed the exact bronze of his skin and tipped in deep umber. He shifted, frown deepening, it felt like he was sitting on something and it couldn't be the chain hooked to his collar—he was looking right at that. Malik reached back and sighed at the fluffy kitty tail he grabbed, "Of course." He muttered; it matched the ears and was sewed quite securely to the seat of the black leather shorts he wore. The only clothing he wore in fact.

_Grrreeeaaat, now I can add humiliation to my wide plethora of emotional scars. How lovely. _ Swiping his tongue over dry lips, he felt something odd in his mouth "Fangs?" The boy half-shrieked to his shocked-looking reflection, poking a shaking

forefinger at the new additions and finding them permanent. At least they weren't vampire fangs, too short and wide for that. While they did come to a point it wasn't needle-like or hollow like a vamp's fangs either—not to mention they were on the top AND on the bottom. "Kitty fangs." Malik told himself, noticing a bruise on his inner forearm—probably where he'd been injected with something. "They drugged me so they could weave ears into my hair and alter my teeth." He whispered.

A wall of fear slowly built in stength within him as he considered the implacations of those actions. _If my new Master is willing to change my teeth like that, what else will he change? _Curling into a fetal position he squeezed his eyes shut, trembling violently at what might be. He might have worked himself into a full blown panic-attack if the sedative in his bloodstream hadn't reasserted itself somewhat. The drug forcibly calmed him, slowing his racing heart, and clearing the fear clouding his thoughts.

_Okay, okay, gotta think this through--so far the vamp has just messed with my teeth, but not too much. I mean, he just lengthened my canines a little bit, I can hardly feel the difference and it won't make eating or talking difficult. The ears are embarassing but removable. I guess I'm lucky the tail is on my pants and not attached to a plug in my ass. My new owner is obviously a nut, but I can't assume he's a sadist until I see him. At least I didn't wake up in painful bondage, and I don't see any sex toys or restraints lying around—not that he couldn't just have them all in a 'playroom' somewhere._ Malik reasoned, silently wishing to Ra he wouldn't be fucked often. Master raped him to the point Malik couldn't stand anything even marginally sexual. Too much to hope he wouldn't be fucked at all, every vampire he'd ever met seemed to have a libido the size of an ocean.

Lightly fingering a kitty ear, Malik thought: _I wonder if this 'pet' thing is something most Palace vamps do or if it's just mine? If that bastard Ryou were here I wonder if they'd make him a kitty too? Naw, he'd be way better as a bunny._ An image of Ryou with a fluffy powder-puff tail and fuzzy bunny ears flopping into his face coaxed a weak chuckle out of the boy. "Something funny kitten?" A deep, sand-coarse voice purred, sounding amused. Malik surged into a sitting position, head snapping around towards the source of the voice—no doubt that of his new master. The person who now held sway over his life or death, his comfort or agony. . . .

Ummmm, I have no idea where the kitty-Malik thing came from. It just popped into my strange little mind while I was writing this. By the way, does anyone know Malik's father's name? Did he ever have one in the series to begin with? Also, does anyone know Ryou's Dad's full name and his mom's name? I don't think that'll come up in the fic but I'm curious.


	3. Chapter 3

Shadowed Violet: Chapter 3 

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!

**A/N:** Again, much thanks to everyone that reviewed—please keep them coming! One of my reviewers has requested I e-mail them when I update, if anyone else would like me to do that for them as well please tell me in a review.

"Bakura how COULD you!" Ryou burst out the second they passed the threshold of their bedroom, ending his tight-lipped, angry silence lasting the entire drive home. Personally, Bakura would have been happy for more quiet. He rounded on the pale boy, eyes like iced expresso, face showing mild annoyance that could very quickly escalate into full blown anger. Ryou shrank back, still upset, but taking Bakura's reminder of his place for what it was. He might be the white-haired vampire's hikari, but that didn't make him Bakura's equal. It guaranteed him his life under vampiric law, and that no other vampire could harm him, but officially he ranked a bare step above regular human slaves and quite a few below a Childing. Childings were newly created vampires, barely stronger than humans, and generally treated much like a human slave.

"You-you sold Malik to HIM. After all the stories you've told me about HIM, after you promised me to sell Malik to someone who wouldn't hurt him. . . ." Ryou continued in a quieter, much less accusing tone. "Who's to say he will? He isn't particularly cruel hikari, just horny and somewhat implusive." Bakura replied evenly. The pale teen collasped on the bed, head in his delicate hands, snowy hair slipping forward to form a silken curtain concealing his features. "You don't understand, you have no idea what Master did to him—the pain he endured. Malik doesn't deserve to go through that again! If he does it'll be MY fault!" Ryou cried, when he looked up there were wet glittering trails down his pale cheeks.

Guilt ate at his soul with razor teeth and voracious appetite, a steady continuous torture waking or sleeping. _Why didn't I help him? Why did I just sit there and let Bakura feed?_ He asked himself, as he had on a daily basis for the last two months. No answer was forthcoming of course, his behaviour was simply inexcusable. He'd couldn't help Malik escape again either, not from the Palace, not when all valuable Palace slaves (and all hikaris period) had tiny rice-sized locator chips injected mere centimeters from their spines. The chip allowed a vampiric Master to track his slave anywhere in the world via satellite; a hideously expensive set-up since human tech and human technicians to control and care for the equipment was becoming ever scarce. No way to remove it either without possibly damaging the slave's spinal cord. "Shhhh, hikari, don't cry." Bakura soothed, sitting down next to the boy and pulling him into his lap.

Ryou cuddled close to the vampire, nuzzling Bakura's chest and breathing in his musky scent. Smiling, Bakura kissed the top of his head, lips tickled by hair soft as unspun bridal satin. Ryou sniffled, he didn't merit comforting, not after what he'd done to Malik. Even though he deserved it no one would punish him, and with the recent turn of events the psychological torture he put himself through no longer seemed enough. An idea flashed through his mind, a possible answer to his inner turmoil. _If I can't help Malik. . . .I wonder. . . . it just might help. _Ryou decided, feeling a little better as he snuggled against his yami. _Now, to think on how, exactly, I should go about it. . . ._

The vampire lounged indolently in the doorway, posing as if he expected a roving band of rabid papparazzi to wander by any second. Clearly, he was used to being admired. It took every iota of Malik's will to not gape like a bumpkin child on his first trip to the city. It took even more effort to smooth his features into a well-practiced, indifferent mask. _He—he looks like ME!_ Indeed, except for more height and musculature, hair that defied gravity so badly it had to be lacquered in place, and darker eyes the resemblance was uncanny. Lips curled in a fangy smile his new owner strolled over, standing above the teen with an expetant air. Malik fought down the urge to scramble away as far as his chain would allow, something about this vampire shook him to his toes in a way no other had since his first Master's death. Maybe it was the semi-crazed look in his eyes, or the way he moved—smooth as oil sliding down polished glass.

The vampire sank into a fluid crouch, amused twilight amythest stared into frightened shadowed violet. Faster than a snake-strike he snatched up Malik's chain and yanked the boy close. "Cat got your tongue?" He murmured, smile widening. "Let's find out." Before Malik could so much as cry out the vampire pounced on him and smashed their lips together, pinning the slave's thrashing body with his larger one. A hot tongue speared between his tender lips, relentlessly exploring every nook and cranny of the wet cavern. "Nope, there's definitely a tongue there." The vampire chuckled, releasing a squirming Malik's lips, but still keeping a bruising grip on the smaller's chin. "Scared then? Of course you are—as you should be. I am Vampyre-Raj Marik (Vampire Prince), second only to the Vampyre-Ra (Vampire King), and your new Master." The boy's already racing heart sped faster at Marik's words. _Oh gods! This nutjob is a fucking Vampire Prince?_

"Nutjob? I'll have you know I'm quite sane. Kittens who say naughty things about their Masters should be punished." Marik huffed indignantly. "Y-you heard my thoughts?" Malik gasped, a horrible chill dread rolling down his spine. He'd never heard of a vampire with that ability, most people thought stuff like that were silly legends—like the sun being deadly for them. Untrue characteristics often made up by frightened peasants to lessen their fears. The vampire leaned forward, resting his lips against the teen's ear. "Of course, only the Vampire-Rajai (Vampire Royalty) have that talent—some more powerful than others." Marik delicately nipped Malik's earlobe, not enough to draw blood but enough to pinch the tender skin.

The boy swallowed a yelp, and shoved at the leather-covered chest with all his strength. Highly useless considering vampires were strong enough to juggle tombstones like foam balls. "Get OFF me!" He grunted, hating the breathy lilt at the end betraying his nerves. Dusk-purple eyes narrowed and darkened, Marik's grip shifting to the boy's slender throat, and slowly stood, Malik dangling from one bronze hand. His windpipe nearly crushed, Malik's eyes snapped wide, pure terror gushing through his veins as the weezing, gagging sounds of someone desperate for air poured from his mouth. Marik watched the human choke for a couple minutes, highly entertained by the various negative emotions flicking over the teen's handsome features before slamming Malik into the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. Thrusting his face barely a hair's width from the boy's Marik hissed: "Let's get something straight boy, you NEVER tell me what to do. I've never believed in that stupid yami/hikari shit, you're my slave and will never be anything else to me. Got it?"

Barely conscious, with vision darkening and his lungs feeling like overfilled bellows about to pop, he managed to nod. Marik smirked and released him. "Good." Malik lay in a trembling heap on the cold marble floor, gulping huge breaths of air into oxygen deprived lungs, feeling both his throat and back throb with the promise of spectacular bruises later. _Oh my Ra! He almost killed me three minutes into our first meeting. He's gotta be worse than my last Master. I can't take that again, I just can't! I'd rather die. . . ._ Malik moaned internally, forgetting about the vampire's mind-reading abilities.

He flinched away from a light touch on his shoulder, unable to stop a frightened whimper from escaping and hating himself for the show of weakness. Marik would have none of that. He drew the shivering human slave into his arms and very gently began stroking his back, igniting the small bit of Healing power within him to fix the damage he caused. "Now, now pet it's not so bad as all that. If you obey me and don't talk back I won't hurt you. I only punish my pets when they're naughty. I might have been a little hard on you just now kitten." Malik squeezed his eyes shut and sat rigidly in the larger male's embrace. _You think!_ He snapped mentally, not daring to say such a thing out loud, but again not recalling the vampire's talents in his current dazed state.

"I haven't yet given you my rules, so I can't expect you to follow what you don't know." Marik went on, continuing to stroke the boy soothingly, though he wasn't sure why he bothered with even a quasi-apology. The human WAS just a slave after all—a very cute slave with a tight little ass that begged to be fucked—but still just a slave.

Speaking of fucking. . . .a decidely WICKED smile curled the Raj's lips. I think it's time I play with my new pet. he thought, anticipation coaxing an eager throb from his nether regions. Marik looped a muscular arm around the boy's abdomin and jerked the smaller body tight to his, forcing Malik's ass against his groin. Malik tensed, breath coming faster as he felt Marik's erection through the leather covering both their lower bodies. "I suppose I should go over the rules then shouldn't I?" The vampire breathed into the teen's ear, voice low and husky, making him shiver. "Rule #1: You do everything I say when I say and without question. When I say everything, I mean anything and everything—no matter how much you may hate it" To emphasize his point or possibly give an example Marik started rubbing Malik's belly in slow, ever widening circles heading straight for the teen's manhood. "Rule #2: You will address me as 'Master' and you will keep your tone civil at all times. Actually, here's where Rule# 3 comes in—you won't speak unless spoken to or asked a direct question." Malik gasped as Marik's fingers teased the waist band of his shorts. "Feel free to whimper and scream as the situation dictates however." Marik added with dangerous nonchalant. "Rule# 4: No one may touch you with fang, cock, or hands unless I say so."

Malik tensed as silken lips nuzzled his throat, Marik's tongue stroked over the flesh, leaving slick trails of wet heat. "You are mine little one, my pet, my slave, to do with as I please." The vampire churred between licks. Malik swallowed hard, he didn't like where this was going but he daren't resist. He almost forgot that when Marik's hand began teasingly inching beneath his waistband, the fingers hot and probing against the delicate skin. The human shuddered, hands convulsing into white-knuckled fists as he forced himself to allow the violation of his person to continue unchecked. He needed to pick his battles carefully, fighting only when the conflict was worth it, swallowing his revulsion at the rest. Marik had already demonstrated his less than sane mental state, that he wasn't above killing in the heat of anger.

Malik knew the laws concerning AB negatives wouldn't apply to a Vampyre-Raj, royalty was above obeying laws that bound commoners. Marik's hand slid lower, nearly at it's goal. Panic swamped Malik's senses, strangling the breath in his throat, his control fading rapidly and making it difficult for him to sit quietly. Hadn't he just reminded himself about choosing battles carefully? Adrenaline rushed through his veins, steadily wearing away at his self-control like floodwaters at a riverbank. The boy'd nearly convinced himself to strike Marik and flee the room--hang the consequences--when a soft knock sounded at the door. "Fuck!" Marik exploded, unceremoniously dumping Malik off his lap and stalking to the carved wooden portal. "What!" He snapped at the short boy with a spiking bush of tri-colored hair in black, magenta, and blonde waiting on the other side. "Sorry to interrupt you Raj Marik but Yami needs you in the Main Conference Room." He informed the Raj diffidently, face generically polite. The vampire growled a few heated curses in a language Malik didn't know. "Ra-damned Pharaoh, it's getting to the point he can't take a piss without consulting me on how to do it." Yugi waited serenely, obviously used to Marik's tantrums. "All right, FINE, I'm coming already." Snarled Marik. "As for you—" He briefly turned towards his new slave. "—we'll finish playing tonight." He promised menacingly, shoving Yugi ahead of him and slamming the door after himself so hard it shuddered on it's hinges. Malik lay sprawled unmoving on his backside, staring blankly at the vibrating door. _Oh Ra, what have I fallen into this time?_


End file.
